Amen

The Master stood in the forecourt and looked up at the sun-sparkled windows of the skyscraper. The shrine of his existence. The temple of the Pure Truth. His black, skin-tight sport suit and running shoes made him look younger than his grey hair would pronounce. He wore a streamlined headset of metallic blue. The emblem of his own personal demi-god – a single white tick – was emblazoned on his left sleeve. Simplicity itself. A symbol of pure action. No constraints. No unnecessary thought. Just the pure truth. He gazed around at the magnificent glass and concrete world, receding for miles into the distance. He breathed the unchanging air. He turned, opened a big glass door and walked inside.The walls in the foyer were festooned with giant plasma screens. The whole wide world captured live by thirty or more huge televisions. He briefly glanced from one scene to the next. There were people walking with headsets on, driving shiny cars, or riding the silver trams. People texting loved ones from their Corporate devices, smoking Corporate cigarettes and sipping Coca Cola. And there were people taking Corporate medications and reading Corporate magazines. All corners of the world. And everyone was happy.

He strode across the foyer, opened another door, and entered a large meeting room. A huge oval table, around which sat a dozen sports-suited acolytes, brief cases by their sides. “Good morning, sir, good morning sir, good morning, sir.” He sat at the head of the table. “Brief me”, he said.“There’s been unrest overnight in a number of provinces, sir”, said the head acolyte.“Oh?” “Hindus and Catholics, mainly, sir. A few Christians. Ignorant savages, they are”, he said with disdain. “They carry banners with names on them. ‘Jesus’ and ‘Krishna’ and ‘Mohammed’ or something. They are mostly peaceful demonstrations in isolated areas, but there was one attempt to shoot a missile at a bank in Delhi, and a pharmaceutical company was burnt to the ground in Paris.”

“Dear oh dear”, said the master, and shook his head. The acolytes muttered and mumbled around the table. They were clearly agitated. “We must do something”, said the head acolyte. “I think we should blow up their churches!”The Master stood. Raised his hand. Cleared his throat. “Enough!” he said. “There will be no violence. There will never be violence. That is not the way.” The acolytes stirred. Shifted in their seats. The Master continued. “You must not think of these miscreants as evil– although, to all intents and purposes, they are. Rather, you must think of them as unfortunates who have never known truth. Who literally do not know the way.” He paused.“But, sir, they are …….”He held up a hand. “I know. You feel that they are heathens – with their little gods, their religions, their faith. And you are right. But it is not their fault. Do you need to be reminded? Human kind has taken thousands of years to reach the pure truth. It is not realistic to think that the whole 20 billion of us should reach it at the same time.” One of the acolytes nodded. “There are still those who have not experienced the pure truth. After all, humanity as a whole only began the process of this realisation with the advent of the Industrial Revolution.” He laughed, “and to think that only a few years ago we thought we had reached perfection with multi-nationalism, globalisation and the beginnings of the free market”. The acolytes laughed together. “Yes, Capitalism was the seed that grew. But the Pure Truth was waiting patiently for human-kind to evolve. Waiting for us to be ready to embrace it.” The Master paused and looked into the eyes of each acolyte in turn. “No, my friends, do not despise them. Love them. Be patient with them. They will learn the way. Give them time. Stand aside and let advertising have her beautiful way with them.”With that, they all stood, bowed, and repeated the Great Mantra: “Just do it Just do it Just do it.”

Feels too preachy and thin to be a story. It also doesn’t feel very honest - I feel like the author is trying to tell me somehing rather than the story takes. I would suggest taking a step back and trying to develop more character, conflict and setting, for starters. Your mechanics of writing are fine, the story reads smoothly. You’re telling a grand story, so make it grand. Let loose. I know you can write, so write, dammit.

Feels too preachy and thin to be a story. It also doesn’t feel very honest - I feel like the author is trying to tell me somehing rather than the story takes. I would suggest taking a step back and trying to develop more character, conflict and setting, for starters. Your mechanics of writing are fine, the story reads smoothly. You’re telling a grand story, so make it grand. Let loose. I know you can write, so write, dammit.

Thank you, Jesse. I really appreciate this feedback; it's very helpful. This isn't a story; just an idea for one. Just a vignette. But maybe I could turn it into a story. I might give it a go, now.

The premise is interesting but so far we have only one viewpoint, that of the rulers. If you could give us the viewpoint of the oppressed and make one or some of them interesting characters then it would help. Perhaps this piece is too short to allow for that, but if ever you work it up into something longer then try to do that.

I like the way you convey the Master's patronising attitude. Many would find that just as chilling as crude aggression.

The premise is interesting but so far we have only one viewpoint, that of the rulers. If you could give us the viewpoint of the oppressed and make one or some of them interesting characters then it would help. Perhaps this piece is too short to allow for that, but if ever you work it up into something longer then try to do that.

I like the way you convey the Master's patronising attitude. Many would find that just as chilling as crude aggression.

Thanks for reading, and commenting, Ian. This piece is really just an idea - for a short story, probably. If I ever do expand it, I'll definitely use your comments (and others). I want to show how globalization and multi national corporatization of the world is completely marginalising all other religious and/or spiritual thought. I see Big Corporation as god; and Apple, Nike, McDonalds, Nokia, Phillip Morris, Lilly, etc, as the demi-gods of today's global society. It sickens me. (Or maybe I'm just a paranoid old goat.)

The Master stood in the forecourt and looked up at the sun-sparkled windows of the skyscraper. The shrine of his existence. The temple of the Pure Truth. His black, skin-tight sport suit and running shoes made him look younger than his grey hair would pronounce. He wore a streamlined headset of metallic blue. The emblem of his own personal demi-god – a single white tick – was emblazoned on his left sleeve. Simplicity itself. A symbol of pure action. No constraints. No unnecessary thought. Just the pure truth.

He gazed around at the magnificent glass and concrete world, receding for miles into the distance. He breathed the unchanging air. He turned, opened a big glass door and walked inside.

The walls in the foyer were festooned with giant plasma screens. The whole wide world captured live by thirty or more huge televisions. He briefly glanced from one scene to the next. There were people walking with headsets on, driving shiny cars, or riding the silver trams. People texting loved ones from their Corporate devices, smoking Corporate cigarettes and sipping Coca Cola. And there were people taking Corporate medications and reading Corporate magazines. All corners of the world. And everyone was happy.

He strode across the foyer, opened another door, and entered a large meeting room. A huge oval table, around which sat a dozen sports-suited acolytes, brief cases by their sides. “Good morning, sir, good morning sir, good morning, sir.” He sat at the head of the table. “Brief me”, he said.

“There’s been unrest overnight in a number of provinces, sir”, said the head acolyte.

“Oh?”

“Hindus and Catholics, mainly, sir. A few Christians. Ignorant savages, they are”, he said with disdain. “They carry banners with names on them. ‘Jesus’ and ‘Krishna’ and ‘Mohammed’ or something. They are mostly peaceful demonstrations in isolated areas, but there was one attempt to shoot a missile at a bank in Delhi, and a pharmaceutical company was burnt to the ground in Paris.”

“Dear oh dear”, said the master, and shook his head.

The acolytes muttered and mumbled around the table. They were clearly agitated. “We must do something”, said the head acolyte. “I think we should blow up their churches!”

The Master stood. Raised his hand. Cleared his throat.

“Enough!” he said. “There will be no violence. There will never be violence. That is not the way.”

The acolytes stirred. Shifted in their seats. The Master continued. “You must not think of these miscreants as evil– although, to all intents and purposes, they are. Rather, you must think of them as unfortunates who have never known truth. Who literally do not know the way.” He paused.

“But, sir, they are …….”

He held up a hand. “I know. You feel that they are heathens – with their little gods, their religions, their faith. And you are right. But it is not their fault. Do you need to be reminded? Human kind has taken thousands of years to reach the pure truth. It is not realistic to think that the whole 20 billion of us should reach it at the same time.”

One of the acolytes nodded.

“There are still those who have not experienced the pure truth. After all, humanity as a whole only began the process of this realisation with the advent of the Industrial Revolution.” He laughed, “and to think that only a few years ago we thought we had reached perfection with multi-nationalism, globalisation and the beginnings of the free market”. The acolytes laughed together.

“Yes, Capitalism was the seed that grew. But the Pure Truth was waiting patiently for human-kind to evolve. Waiting for us to be ready to embrace it.” The Master paused and looked into the eyes of each acolyte in turn. “No, my friends, do not despise them. Love them. Be patient with them. They will learn the way. Give them time. Stand aside and let advertising have her beautiful way with them.”

With that, they all stood, bowed, and repeated the Great Mantra: “Just do it Just do it Just do it.”

__________________If you surrender a civilization to avoid social disapproval, you should know that all of history will curse you for your cowardliness - Alice Teller

If John of Patmos would browse the internet today for half an hour, I don't know if the Book of Revelations would be entirely different or entirely the same.

Thanks, Mohican. I did work it out, though. I'm very old school, and I still indent my paragraphs (rather than spacing them). Of course, indented paragraphs don't come out indented when you post them in threads here. So I'll just have to get used to spacing them. Thanks.